


i see fire [running up that hill]

by MelanieKS



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Husbands, Insanity, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Separation, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:28:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanieKS/pseuds/MelanieKS
Summary: Joe and Nicky were less than ten feet from the blue sedan when it exploded in a blazing hot ball of fire. Pain hit Nicky full in the chest and face seconds before the bomb’s shockwave shuddered the ground and propelled him backwards. He hit something hard and unforgiving, his head snapping back against it before flopping on the ground, left arm trapped and snapped in half beneath him.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 62
Kudos: 317





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Coming out of a long hiatus because this movie brought all the lovely feels and I can't get enough of hurt Joe x Nicky.

**Berlin, Germany 2021**

Joe and Nicky were less than ten feet from the blue sedan when it exploded in a blazing hot ball of fire. Pain hit Nicky full in the chest and face seconds before the bomb’s shockwave shuddered the ground and propelled him backwards. He hit something hard and unforgiving, his head snapping back against it before flopping on the ground, left arm trapped and snapped in half beneath him. Felt the sticky wetness of blood in his hair, on his face, no doubt a head wound. 

Consciousness started fading and became a precarious thread he struggled holding onto; the amount of damage his body endured clouding his normally sharp senses. Even after almost a millennium of countless injuries and dying on repeat, the pain was still sharp and remorseless. Shrapnel exited holes before closing, the slow progression of broken skin and bones mending gave him some relief. He welcomed that feeling, a humbling reminder that beneath the invincibility he was still human. 

Aside from the shrill ringing in his ears, he heard nothing. Not the flames licking and devouring the remaining shell of the vehicle or the cries of others caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everything moved sluggishly, his own body along with those scrambling to help, as if caught in a slow-motion film. Shattered glass and shredded debris littered a large radius around the car, more people than Nicky realized affected by the blast. 

Too many innocents, more lives lost and for what he wondered. Was the attack deliberate or coincidental that he and Joe were standing by that car bomb at the exact time it was set to go off? There was no political unrest in Berlin or Europe, but surprisingly and blissfully peaceful. Nicky surmised it linked with their less than fortunate mishap with Merrick and the prevalent interest in capturing them that followed. Even with Copley’s efforts to erase their tracks, more nefarious corporations pining for a taste of immortality didn’t relent. 

Joe would be furious. 

_Joe…_

As if the film finally caught up with real time, Nicky searched frantically for his love through the chaos of fire and smoke and screams. He choked on the stench of burnt flesh and blood, clotted in thick smoke. So many people, onlookers and victims, and Nicky felt the unease of discovery settling like bricks in his stomach. He needed to find Joe and get away. 

Shouting out Joe’s name he pushed upright on shaky arms – the left one weaker still. How slow he was healing this time around was a faint nagging at the back of his mind, but the unknown of Joe’s wellbeing blundered any more thought of it. 

Find Joe. Get out and find a safe place to hunker down until they could figure out who started the attack. 

“Joe? Joe!” 

_There._

Several feet away with far too much blood pooled around his unmoving body. Nicky’s heart stopped and lodged in his throat with the crippling dread of death finally taking Joe from him. There was always the grounding reality of one day they wouldn’t wake up again. It wasn’t death that frightened Nicky, but the risk of Joe passing before him, leaving him alone with nothing to live for and unable to die. 

“Joe!” 

Nicky started toward Joe, eager to touch him and feel his chest rise and fall with breath, to press his lips against Joe’s and feel their warmth on his. He should’ve woken up by now and Nicky couldn’t get to him fast enough. 

“Joe! Yussuf, destati—” 

The sudden squeal of brakes followed by boots hitting pavement stopped his mission of reaching his love. He twisted round, gun raised and trigger-finger contracting purely from reflex of facing similar dilemmas in the past. 

Nicky killed one of the men by shooting the combat-clad soldier in the neck before the other five armored bodies surrounded him and blocked his view of Joe. Dismay crept up his spine and seized a furious cry from his throat. Steel-toed boots and rifle butts lashed out from all directions before he had the chance at shooting anyone else. One relieved Nicky of his gun by crushing his wrist. Another boot caught him across the temple and his vision flashed white before he crumbled flat on his stomach, wrist still trapped, small bones grinding together painfully. 

He barely caught his breath when the end of a rifle struck his cheek. Blood pooled on his tongue and he spat it out as a gloved fist careened toward his face, but he caught the hand and twisted before impact. Broke the assailant’s arm at the elbow, white bone glistening in stark contrast against the black suit. The man screamed and stumbled out of the circle, but the others just formed a tighter cage around Nicky.  
When he caught the glint of steel cuffs, the terror of being captured again renewed Nicky’s fervor at fighting his way out by throwing punches and kicks at any solid piece of flesh. 

Immortal or not, he was no match against 50,000 volts of electricity. 

Nicky choked on a scream; the tortured sound stuck behind clenched teeth as his muscles seized. It only lasted seconds, but the convulsions and pain rendered him defenseless and his limbs worthless. His arms were wrenched back, and metal snapped around his wrists. Hands hooked around his elbows, hauling him off the ground. 

“What about the other?” 

“Leave him, he’s dead! He’s no good to her.” 

_Dead._

Hysteria erupted out of Nicky, his cry a wretched, broken thing. He needed to see Joe, needed to dissuade any notion that his love was truly gone. This couldn’t be how it ended. After countless deaths over the centuries, being dragged away from Joe’s body left on the side of the street was the worst possibility. 

“No, no… Joe! Joe!” 

Frantic for a glimpse of Joe, he twisted and thrashed, craning his head around. A hand clutched the back of his neck and pushed him forward, slamming his face onto the hood of a black SUV. He gnashed his teeth, tensing his body for battle despite the chains and iron grips of his captors. 

They must’ve sensed his motive when a gloved hand tangled a fistful of Nicky’s hair before smashing his face against the hood again. The reverberation clanged in his skull as a gray haze crept around the edges of his awareness, slowing getting bigger. Like an over-inflated balloon seconds from popping. His head meeting the SUV’s hood a second time popped the balloon and he fell down the dark hole into nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Nicky woke up slow, dazed from a throbbing headache and vision angled sideways. Smoke and blood lingered like a bad taste in his mouth and he coughed, rubbing his cheek against a sticky, wet cement floor that smelled a lot like human pee and motor oil. 

Hands were still chained behind his back, and realized he had the bonus of anklets on a longer length of chain padlocked to an iron ring on the floor. He tugged ineffectively on the chain, wondering how this new enemy gathered their information and for doing the proper research. An inner part of him, the part of Joe that had rubbed off on him, groaned with irritation before cursing.

The thought of Joe stirred Nicky into action, anxious for any hint of hope that his love had survived, and he was taken along with Nicky. He shifted his weight on his right shoulder and pushed up on his bound hands until he was sitting. Gathered in his current prison through hooded eyes. Took it slow moving his head as it ached anew with the movement of sitting upright, his sight growing fuzzy and distorted for a few seconds. The faint aftertaste of something metallic on his swollen and dry tongue no doubt pointed toward a potent sedative. 

From his position on the floor, Nicky catalogued cinderblock walls and steel beams covered in bird waste and cobwebs. Some industrial building that hadn’t seen production in decades. Based off the remnants of hook and chain pulleys on an assembly line left behind in the exodus, a former slaughterhouse. Broken single-pane windows allowed in the dim glow of dawn but were too high off the ground to see anything other than sky. 

No sign of Joe, but Nicky wasn’t alone. 

She was sitting on a metal folding chair just out of reach of the bolted chain, with her legs crossed and dainty hands perched on the knee. Her cavalier stare unsettled Nicky. When her lips spread in a thin, mirthless smile, he felt sick. 

“You are Nicoló,” Quynh said, her voice appraising, curious. Her insanity was there though, alight in her dark eyes glittering in the hazy light. 

“Where’s Joe?” 

She shrugged and blinked lazily. Her nonchalance skyrocketed his anxiety concerning Joe’s whereabouts and safety. His pulse hammered with restless urgency and he twisted and pulled his wrists in the cuffs. Combed around for some weapon or screw he could use in unlocking them, but that resulted in nothing within his reach. 

“This isn’t necessary,” he said, indicating the chains. “I will not hurt you or run away. We can talk. We are family, Quynh.”

She curled her lip and the flames of madness ignited in the black pools of her eyes. Centuries of raw, unbridled hurt and rage contorted her delicate features. “Does family abandon their own?” she said, low and dangerous. 

“We searched for you—” 

Quynh clicked her tongue, displeased. She stood and peered down at Nicky, regarding him with an expression devoid of any sort of sentimentality or kindness. 

“I am not the only one you have cast out,” she said, narrowing her eyes, waiting for his reaction. 

Nicky sighed, suddenly tired. “Booker betrayed us—” 

“What is your new family like? I saw the girl, Nile, in my dreams. Does Andromache give her promises she cannot keep?” 

“Quynh,” he said, voice hoarse, pleading. “Whatever it is you think of Andromache is _wrong_. She never deserted you. We never wanted to give up searching for you, and I cannot imagine the pain you endured all alone. We were all devastated by it and she blamed herself for what happened to you. She loves you and would like nothing more than to see you are here… and well.” 

For a long beat she did nothing but stare at Nicky. Not at him, but _through_ him. She merely viewed him as an obstacle to eradicate, one more piece getting in the way of Andy. It was clear no matter what he said he wouldn’t get through to her. She’d made up her mind long before she had escaped from her underwater prison and her decision would not land in Nicky’s favor. Or for the rest of them.

“It was supposed to be just me and her until the end,” Quynh said, her voice wistful and distant, reminiscing of a fulfilled life long ago where all that existed was her and Andy, side by side in battle and in love. 

Nicky couldn’t fault her for wanting that again. Separation from Joe, for even the shortest length of time pained Nicky more than bullets or blades. The hurt ran deeper than flesh and bone, and he surmised he would’ve gone insane just like Quynh. It wasn’t just the repeat of dying while trapped at the bottom of the sea, it was being torn away from the one she had adored that may have been the last thread of her sanity vanished. 

“Let me take you to Andy,” he said. “We can fix this, if only you will let us take care of you.” 

Her eyes fell on him, her stare heavy yet calm, resonating the finality of his fate. Born from reflex, the warrior in him awoke and stiffened for a looming battle, regardless of his current predicament chained to the floor. It was too ingrained in him not to try. He’d break his limbs to escape. 

Quynh retreated in the gloom of a corner, sending Nicky into a spiral of uncertainty. He stared after her, a deep crease between his brows. Then noises fluttered in from somewhere deeper in the building, sounds of a struggle, feet shuffling, and male voices. Nicky watched as the same men that had captured him on the street appeared, dragging a cursing bound man between them. A shock of dark curls had Nicky’s heart sinking with dread, but then soared with astounding relief. 

Joe was _alive_. 

“Yusuf,” Nicky gasped. “Oh Yusuf—” 

At the sound of his name, Joe looked around with a frenzied desperation. Once his eyes landed on Nicky, he blew out a consoled breath. The men ushered him forward as fast as the leg irons would allow, and Nicky saw the dried blood clotted in Joe’s hair, on his face, and covering most of his clothing. There was no way of knowing if all the blood came from the bombing or if Joe had acquired more injuries after and the thought of the latter had Nicky’s blood boiling. 

Joe kicked and twisted out of the men’s hands and crashed against the side of Nicky’s leg, kneeling and breathless and soaking in all of Nicky with wide, glistening eyes. As if confirming Nicky was real and whole. His warmth and proximity became an instant balm and Nicky leaned into him. Joe exhaled, his shoulders releasing some of their tension as he reached for Nicky’s face, holding him, grounding him. 

Their lips smashed together in a furious, wonderful reunion. The kiss was full of fervor and warmth as if they hadn’t seen one another for years. Nicky strained against the handcuffs holding his arms behind his back, eager to touch Joe properly. He wanted his arms around Joe, keeping their bodies close – where nothing, no one could get between them. 

“Amore mio, che sei qui,” Joe said in a panting whisper when he pulled away. 

Nicky nodded and said, “Pensvo di averti perso.” 

Joe snorted at that, brushing his beard against Nicky’s cheek. “Never,” he said. 

Closing his eyes, Nicky touched his forehead to Joe’s and just breathed him in. He smelled of smoke and blood, but underneath that layer of grime the familiar fragrances of coconut and cedar and mint chewing gum. 

_Home._

“I love you. Dayimaan.”

“Sempre.” 

Roughened fingers brushed over Nicky’s face and through his sweat-soaked hair. Those hands that Nicky knew by heart and could recount the calluses from centuries of brandishing a leather-wrapped sword hilt down to every fine twist and groove that made up Joe’s fingerprints. 

“I am not all mad,” Quynh said, emerging from her silent perch in the shadows. She stepped close; hands stuffed in the pockets of her long wool coat. “See? I gave you one last moment together.” 

No, it revealed just how mad she had become, and Nicky couldn’t hide the panic from shaking his voice. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?” 

Joe finally saw her, and his eyes gradually grew wider as a slew of emotions from surprise and relief and confusion and anger flashed across his face. It wasn’t until then he put the pieces together and the shock swiftly turned to terror.   
Eyes cold and deadly and determined, she lifted a gun and aimed at his face. 

“Nicó—” 

A strangled cry rose out of Nicky as warm blood sprayed his face and Joe’s head snapped back from the force of the bullet’s merciless path through his skull. His body collapsed before Nicky and he could do nothing but gape, his heart trapped in his throat. 

As if this hadn’t happened hundreds of times before. 

As if it was the first time and the last. 

_Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP._

Before Joe could revive, his limp body was hauled out of sight. Something inside of Nicky shattered and he screamed. Watching as his beloved was dragged away from him, a dark, impossible hole gouged through his being and he lost all sense of rationality. With rage and terror filling up that hole, he screamed and thrashed, pulling on the restraints with every bit of his vigor until his wrists were bleeding and flesh scraped off broken bones. His cries went unheard as they resounded in the steel rafters above, glass panes shuddering from the echoes. 

Salty tears soaked his face, his eyes beseeching Quynh. “Please do not do this,” he said, voice cracked, his soul broken. 

Quynh ignored his pleas and stepped closer, a small knife in place of the gun. She clutched a chunk of his hair, wrenching his head back at a sharp and painful angle. He sobbed around gritted his teeth as she forced him up on his knees. He would never forget that wild, yet completely satisfied gleam in her eyes. 

“You will know my pain,” she murmured in his ear, as he felt the blade slicing his throat open. 

The familiar seizure of death pulled him under before his body hit the pooling blood on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Amore mio, che sei qui – My love, you are here.   
> Pensvo di averti perso. – I thought I lost you.  
> Dayimaan (Arabic) – Always.   
> Sempre – Always.


	3. Chapter 3

22 days.

528 hours. 

Three arduous and distressing weeks of _nothing_. Not one fucking solid lead that didn’t end up a dead end or a pile of bodies that couldn’t talk. Whoever took Nicky and Joe covered their tracks so well that Copley had started questioning his skills of sleuthing. The idea of absolutely no chatter in the dark web or even a paper trail to the one in charge of this operation caused for the most troubling concern. 

Andy couldn’t remember the last decent night’s sleep since watching CCTV footage of the bombing. She had reviewed the scene over and over, trying to compartmentalize and memorize every minute detail in hopes of catching something that she hadn’t seen the last round. Nothing other than distress each time she watched as Nicky and Joe were nearly blown apart. 

The SUV that had transported Nicky and Joe from the bomb site became the first disappointment. Copley had tracked the vehicle back to a rental company by the Berlin Brandenburg Airport, paid with cash and the tracking device disabled moments after leaving the rental lot. Hours after the attack, the SUV was found in a parking garage, surfaces wiped clean of prints. 

Four days later, the slaughterhouse. Six bodies left behind, the hired muscle responsible for taking Nicky and Joe from the bomb site. Each man shot in the head execution style and their bodies strung up on the pulley chains like gutted pigs. No sign of Nicky or Joe other than a pair of leg irons discarded by an ominously large amount of dried blood. 

From there, the trail ran cold. 

Saying Andy was on edge would’ve been a gross understatement. 

She doubted the duo’s disappearance part of another big pharma or greedy corporation looking to cash in on the mystery of their immortality, but she couldn’t deny her speculations wandering towards Booker. As much as she hated admitting the likely chance of secrets getting out in one of his drunken stupors, she wanted to forgive Booker; she wanted to trust him again. She still did, to an extent, but there’s no hiding the emotional scars of his betrayal still raw and inflamed. 

Copley had searched for Booker, but he couldn’t find any definitive data or surveillance footage from the last three months. The last Booker had been seen on CCTV was in Paris, shortly six months after his sentenced exile, stumbling along the cobblestone streets with a half-full bottle dangling from his hand. 

Whoever took Joe and Nicky must have Booker too. 

A perpetual, desolate mood had settled over the dwindled group of three. The more time passed, the more somber the mood. Andy’s hope of finding her family started fading. Copley should’ve found something. He had followed centuries of their existence in history, what was so different this time? Who had her brothers and could disappear without a trace? What was the motive? Enemies from past jobs seeking revenge, perhaps? Or maybe it really was another corporation like Merrick and Copley hadn’t tapped into the right conversations. 

In her lifetime, Andy had the misfortune of going through diverse methods of torture and deaths, but nothing compared to the deep and torrid ache of losing her family and the subjection that followed. Quynh was a constant regret; the guilt settled in Andy’s gut like a heavy stone, always there, always reminding her of her failure to protect the one she loved. Losing Booker because of his betrayal and now Joe and Nicky missing for the second time in less than a year made her feel as if a serrated knife had buried in her stomach and she couldn’t pull it out. 

Anxiety became an awful, lonely friend in the hours and days of waiting, hoping. With little to no action, other than pacing the floor of the apartment that Joe and Nicky had stayed in not far from the bomb site, Andy may pitch forward into a rage and tear a path of blood and gore across the world to find Joe and Nicky. She’d spent hundreds of years looking for Quynh in the ocean, but time wasn’t on her side this round, and Andy urgently needed more of it. Needed something, just one clue that led in the right direction instead of spinning in circles. 

“Stop.” 

Nile’s voice boomed in the too quiet apartment, halting Andy in her wearing down the rug between the kitchen and living area. Remnants of Joe and Nicky’s time spent there untouched, as if expecting them to walk through the front door at any moment and pick up where they’d left off from their morning stroll for coffee and pastries.

Perched on the counter, Nile bit into a slice of orange. Juice squirted in a high arc before splashing on the tile beneath her bare feet. She said around a mouthful of citrus, “You keep that up and you’ll end up in the apartment below.” 

Without movement, the grasp of how physically and emotionally drained Andy was hit like a palette of bricks, careening at full speed. She dropped in the settee by the window, slouching with legs spread out and arms listless at her sides.

“Before you even say it, we’re doing everything we can and it’s something,” Nile said with a razor-edged stare, challenging Andy’s rebuttal. “But we need to rest, Andy. We’re no good to Joe and Nicky if we don’t take care of ourselves… and we’ll find them.”

Andy dragged a hand through her hair as her eyes lingered on the street below, watching people coast along the paved walkways. Loved ones embracing, friends laughing. So many faces that didn’t carry the endless burden of loss or pain or guilt, and she wondered what that felt like. To not see and partake in centuries upon centuries of violence in wars and fighting people who only wanted the world to burn. 

“Your youthful exuberance gives me a headache.” 

Nile laughed softly as she tossed the orange peel in the sink with more force than necessary. “Good thing I’m around to keep annoying you with my _exuberance_ or else you’d wither away into a senile, bitter old woman. Oh wait, you already are.” 

Andy attempted a smile at the banter, more for Nile’s sake. The older Andy became, the harder it was at finding joy. Her group of misfits the only thing that kept her going. With her family torn apart, that happiness seemed like a ghost and just left her shivering with cold. 

“Get some sleep,” Nile said. 

Andy ignored the sentiment when her phone rang. She answered before it rang a second time. 

“I’m sending you a photo now,” was all Copley said before she heard the ding of a text message. 

She pulled up the photo from his text and she froze. Everything snapped out of existence save for the black and white picture. Her vision squeezed down a narrow, dark tunnel as her breath stalled in her lungs. A mixture of relief and sorrow gripped Andy tight, pulling her forward until she folded over her knees. She couldn’t quite catch her breath. If not for sitting, she might have fallen over faint. 

It couldn’t be _her._

“Andy!” Nile’s frantic voice came into focus and Andy flinched, as if struck. 

“Quynh,” Andy blurted out, her voice a trembling, frightened thing. She straightened on the settee and allowed Nile a better view of the photo. Her hands shook. “It’s Quynh.” 

Quynh was free. 

Quynh was responsible for hurting Joe and Nicky.

They were fucked. 

\----

Nicky revived with a violent, sobbing gasp and immediately clawed at the earth engulfing him. Each time his panic kept him fighting to reach the surface, but the grave seemed endless. A bottomless pit of dried hard-packed earth pressing against his body suffocating and paralyzing. Dirt filled his lungs again, only minutes away from choking off his air and killing him. He’d lost count how many times he’d died in this grave. Each time he woke the torment worsened, but before he could scream his agony he’d died again. 

Over and over and over. 

A lifetime of torture, repeating what Quynh had suffered. 

Her pain. 

Her madness. 

Her helplessness. 

Her loneliness. 

_Joe._

He died with his love’s name on his quivering lips. With a solemn plea that Joe would find him before he lost his mind or didn’t wake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and comments!


End file.
